Country

by Jeff Mann

  Lucas tensed up, gripped Brice’s shoulders, and whimpered. “Oh, man.”

  “You like that?” Brice gave the little nub another lick before looking up at Lucas.

  Lucas nodded, gray-blue eyes very wide. “Hell, yes. The sensation goes straight to my cock. Keep it up, man. Please.”

  Brice licked the nipple again and again. He took it into his mouth and sucked gently. Then he moved to Lucas’s left pec, kneading its hard flesh and treating the left nipple to the same eager adorations.

  Lucas ran his hands through Brice’s short, receding hair. “You can do that harder, man. I ain’t gonna break.”

  “Be glad to,” Brice muttered, sucking more intensely. “Just let me know if I get too rough.” He trapped Lucas’s hard-on between his own chest and Lucas’s belly before reaching up to pinch and tug Lucas’s right nipple.

  “Oh, yeah. Work ‘em both. Oh, yeah,” Lucas groaned, gripping Brice’s head. “That’s…. Do it even harder, okay? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, that…almost hurts…but it…feels so damn good.”

  “I’ve been wanting to suck your tits for weeks,” Brice muttered, taking Lucas’s left nipple between his teeth and biting down gently.

  “Yeah. Oh! Yeah!” Lucas gasped. Reaching down, he seized his own prick and began stroking it.

  “Not too rough?”

  “N-naw. N-naw. Just right. Just…right.”

  Brice took his time, shifting from firmness to gentleness and back again, reveling in Lucas’s blissful moans and euphoric squirming. Brice lapped, sucked, nibbled, bit, chewed and tugged Lucas’s tiny nipples, moving from one to the other like a honeybee between two especially succulent pink roses.

  Lucas fisted his cock faster and faster. “Oh, man, I’m already close.”

  “Let me help with that,” Brice said. He slid further down Lucas’s body, kissing his scars, licking the line of cinnamon hair descending from his navel to his pubes. Squeezing the boy’s nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, he nuzzled his cock, lapped its sticky head, and then took the thick column into his mouth.

  Brice sucked steadily, loving the smell and taste of Lucas’s crotch-musk, laving the head and shaft with his tongue. “Oh, yeah!” Lucas groaned. He ran his fingers over Brice’s dick-tautened lips and saliva-moist beard, then gripped Brice’s head and fucked his face with quick, shallow thrusts. Deep in his throat, Brice laughed a low laugh of consummation and triumph—as well as he could with his mouth crammed happily full of his lover’s dick. Squeezing Lucas’s tits, he bobbed faster and faster, deep-throating Lucas’s cock as drool spilled from the corners of his mouth and strung off his chin.

  “I’m…ohhh…getting real, real close,” Lucas gasped, bucking against Brice’s face.

  “Do it,” Brice mumbled around the hard flesh in his mouth, his nose buried in the boy’s sweaty pubic hair. “Gimme a big load.”

  “Huuuuhhhh. Okay. Huhhhhhh!”

  Lucas pumped faster. Brice sucked harder. Lucas tensed, his fingers digging into Brice’s scalp.

  “Here we go,” Lucas panted, his thighs trembling. “Here we go.”

  Brice released Lucas’s nipples and cupped Lucas’s buttocks in his hands, pulling the boy closer, taking Lucas into him even more deeply. In another moment, Lucas stiffened, jerked, released a great shout, and climaxed, his come coursing over Brice’s tongue.

  Bittersweet, Brice thought, savoring the taste, rolling it around in his mouth as another spasm of semen hit the back of his throat. Finally, the come of a man I love on my tongue. My lover’s virile come. Like liquor his body’s distilled, ale his manhood’s brewed. Love’s come. Bittersweet. Thank You, thank You, You who created this cosmos and permitted me to come into being and walk the path that brought me to this beautiful man and take his flesh and his sap inside me. Thank You.

  Lucas lay limp beneath Brice, his eyes closed, his chest heaving. Brice let Lucas’s cock slip from his mouth. He leaned his head against Lucas’s furry thigh and watched his penis slowly soften. When, every now and then, drops of fluid beaded like tiny opals on his prick tip, Brice took his time licking them away. The creamy droplets reminded him of his childhood in Summers County, back when he’d helped his grandfather collect sap to make maple syrup; mornings, he’d watch sugar water dripping from the elderberry spiles of tapped maple trees, the droplets glinting in slants of late winter sun, so pure and sweet when caught on the tongue.

  Lucas sighed. “That was wonderful. I knew you’d be an amazing lover. Why the hell did I wait so long? Get up here and kiss me.”

  Brice obliged. The two men lay on their sides beneath the blanket, fondling and kissing. “You need to come now,” Lucas said, taking Brice’s half-hard penis in his hand.

  “Naw.” Brice nibbled Lucas’s plump lower lip. “Tonight’s all about you.”

  “Sure?”

  Brice nodded, brushing his beard against Lucas’s own.

  Lucas snuggled his head into the space between Brice’s neck and shoulder and threw an arm over Brice’s chest. Brice fondled Lucas’s ear, tugging gently at his metal hoop.

  “I’m not gonna drink so much any more,” Lucas said. “I don’t need it with you around.”

  “Good. I won’t either. I always do stupid shit when I get drunk.”

  Lucas kissed Brice’s collarbone and fell silent. Soon his breathing deepened. Just when Brice thought Lucas had fallen asleep, just when Brice was about to roll him onto his side and spoon him, Lucas murmured his name.

  “Hmm?”

  “You make me real, real happy. Happier’n I thought I ever could be. Good night.”

  Love welled up in Brice, constricting his throat and tightening his chest, making it difficult to speak. By the time he was ready to reply, Lucas had begun a gentle snoring. Brice kissed the boy on the temple, sent up another prayer of thankfulness, and closed his eyes.

  THE NEXT MORNING, BRICE CAME TO consciousness in a particularly heaven-sent manner: he woke to find his young lover sucking his cock while late February sunlight poured over the boy’s freckled shoulders and shapely ass-cheeks. Brice fucked Lucas’s face for a long time, then pulled him up into his burly arms for some tit-tweaking and good-morning kisses. Caressing led to wrestling and laughter, which led to more kissing and then a rhythmic sixty-nining, which led to grunts of ecstasy as the two men filled each other’s mouths with welcome loads of come.

  For a few minutes, they panted drowsily, sunk in post-orgasmic contentment, Brice fondling Lucas’s balls and Lucas stroking Brice’s hairy ass. “Lie on top of me for a little while,” Lucas murmured, after they’d caught their breaths. “I love to feel you on top of me.”

  Brice rose on one elbow. “Just tell me when I start crushing you. I’m a pretty big boy.”

  “That’s one of the things I like about you,” Lucas said, running his fingers through the fur on Brice’s ample belly.

  Reversing his position, Brice straddled Lucas’s thighs and slowly lowered himself on top of the boy. He slipped his left arm under Lucas’s head and stroked Lucas’s tattoo sleeve with his right hand.

  “Like they say in the movies, where you been all my life?” Lucas said, nipping Brice’s ear.

  “Married to a woman. Living a lie. You?”

  “Eating prison food and getting beat up regular.”

  “Seems like things have improved a good bit then.” Brice gnawed Lucas’s ginger-bearded chin.

  Lucas sighed. “Thank God.”

  “Thank God indeed,” Brice rasped. They fell silent, gazing into each other’s eyes.

  “I love all this hair on your chest. And how big and chunky your pecs are,” Lucas said, tugging at the fur around Brice’s right nipple.

  “They’re as much fat as muscle, I fear.”

  “That’s fine with me. I love the way you fill out a shirt.”

  “I love the way you fill out a pair of jeans. Or those skimpy black Speedos I bought you. And I love your tattoos.” Brice ran a finger down Lucas’s left arm. “When did you get them?”r />
  “Once I got out of prison. I couldn’t afford ‘em, but Uncle Phil said I could have anything I wanted for my welcome-home gift, so I said a bunch of tattoos. He about fainted at first. Told me he thought I’d grown up but he guessed he was wrong. But then he changed his mind. I think he gets a kick out of my rebellious side. My ‘Fuck You’ stance, as he calls it.”

  “That tends to be a healthy attitude in a world that’s always trying to control who we are and what we do. When’s your birthday?”

  “April twenty-fourth. Yours is August eighth, right? You’re a Leo. That figures. Charismatic. Talented. Ambitious. Loves attention. Loves an audience.”

  “Sounds about right. And you?”

  “Taurus. Stubborn. Loyal. Earthy. Loves stability and comfort. Cherishes the good life. Tasty food, cozy spaces.” Lucas squeezed Brice’s biceps. “Skillful lovers.”

  “Skillful? Well, you inspire me, both in and out of the sack. So your birthday is coming up in just a couple of month. Got any plans?”

  “Not yet. How about we take a hike at Blackwater Falls State Park? It’s about two hours from here. Super pretty.”

  “It is. Some frat brothers and I went there one fall when I was back in college and rented out a cabin to party for the weekend. I’d love to go back. How about we rent a cabin too? My treat.”

  “That’d be great. It’d be a perfect setting for you to give me the birthday present I want the most.”

  “I’d be glad to, if I knew what that present was.”

  “You’ll find out,” Lucas said, patting Brice’s butt.

  “I’ll give you anything you want. As long as I can afford it. My finances ain’t what they used to be.”

  “This won’t cost much, I promise.”

  “Then you got it.” Brice kissed Lucas’s cheek.

  “Great. I’ll be counting the days.” Lucas patted Brice’s butt again. “Guess we better get up. Lots to do. Get on off me, cowboy.”

  Brice rolled off Lucas and slid off the side of the bed. He stretched out his back for a brief moment before offering Lucas a hand and hauling him from the tangle of post-sex sheets.

  Brice squeezed Lucas’s inked left shoulder. “You’ve never told me about your tattoos. What they mean to you.”

  “You wanna know?”

  “I do.”

  “Okay. Then I got to get to studying and woodcutting and some planting in the greenhouse. Wanna help with that? Last night, we missed it, thanks to that jowly motherfucker, Reverend Davis, but the Helvetia folks burnt the effigy of Old Man Winter. Spring’s acomin’ and I got a big man to feed,” Lucas said, running his palm over Brice’s belly swell. “So I gotta get a big garden in.”

  “I’d be glad to help. Been many a year since I had my hands in the dirt. So, the tattoos?”

  “Okay. Well. This up here on my shoulder, see these flames? Can you make out letters in ‘em?”

  Brice finger-traced the inked swirls. “CSA?”

  “Yep. Like I said before—I guess it was the first day we met—like you, I had an ancestor in the Confederate army. He was a cavalry guy. Got wounded bad at Brandy Station and sat out the rest of the war. It pisses the ever-loving hell outta me when people talk shit about the Rebel flag.”

  “Oh, I know. Folks see the battle flag on my ball cap and assume all kinds of nastiness. It really irks my ass.”

  “Well, fuck ‘em. It’s a free country. We can honor our ancestors if we want to.”

  Lucas gave a sharp salute before continuing his explanations. “Okay, so here on my biceps, that’s the male symbol, the Mars symbol.”

  “With a big ole arrow.” Brice gave Lucas’s crotch a quick grope. “Not unlike yours.”

  “Behave now, Daddy. So this is a shamrock,” Lucas said, pointing to his left forearm. “With Celtic knots, see? ‘Cause I got Irish blood. And this is the sign for Taurus, here with the horns. Since I got some Scots blood too, this is a Scottish shield with crossed spears, and this is a Scottish thistle, and this back here, this flaming sword’s a Scottish claymore. Weapons, ‘cause the world’s hostile and you gotta defend what’s yours and fight for what you believe in.”

  “Appropriate,” Brice said, fondling Lucas’s muscular arm. “Prickly thistles, swords, and shields. You’re an ornery little warrior.”

  “So’re you. Otherwise neither of us would have survived this long. This back here on my triceps is a Norse rune, Tyr, that actually means ‘warrior.’ So, over here on the right arm….”

  Lucas flexed, giving Brice a brief but appetizing muscle show. “This biceps band is barbed wire, and this wristband’s thorns. They’re both about how strength can come from suffering. This here on my forearm is a Thor’s hammer. I spent a lot of time in the library when I was in prison, and Eric—his family was originally from Denmark—he got me into Norse mythology. I thought Thor was super-cool ‘cause he protected the people he cared about and ‘cause he was…well, I imagined him as a big, sexy man, the kind of protector I needed. Guess I found him, huh? First in Eric, and now in you.”

  Lucas stood on tiptoe and kissed Brice firmly on the mouth. “Okay, stud, ink tour’s over. Gimme a few hours of alone time. I’m planning on taking the GED in May, so I gotta study. How about we meet in the great room about two? I’ll fix us a couple sandwiches and then we can get to that planting. Tonight, I’m gonna make us spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “One of my favorites.”

  “I know. I read about your favorite foods in Country Weekly a good while back. And then the hot tub?”

  “Sounds great. Let me grab a quick shower, and I’ll get out of your hair…such as it is.”

  Brice tousled Lucas’s buzz cut and headed to the bathroom, his brain swimming with swords and shamrocks, dripping maple sap and spurting semen, and the pale, hard muscles of his lover’s naked youth. Already, he could sense, fragments of a fresh lyric were piecing themselves together inside his newly awakened heart.

  TWO DRIZZLE-CHILLY DAYS PASSED QUIETLY AND without interruption, free of phone calls, visitors, traumatizing e-mail messages, or trespassing reporters. Brice relaxed, read, played his guitar, drove to Elkins for his chiropractic appointment, and, after browsing cookbooks, made a loaf of French bread and an old-fashioned buttermilk pie. Lucas chopped wood, drove to Buckhannon for groceries, and steadily worked through more GED preparatory material. Together, they lifted weights, soaked in the hot tub, watched television, hiked around the February-gray compound, and played games of pool.

  Now, as night came on, they sprawled on the couch, enjoying glasses of red wine and big bowls of French onion soup. Firelight illuminated the great room, as did a few candles set on the coffee table and the mantelpiece. Outside, a cold rain poured down.

  “This soup’s delicious,” Brice said. “I love these quiet evenings with you.”

  “We are sorta acting like an old settled-in, long-married couple, but you don’t hear me complaining, do you? I got enough excitement in prison, believe me. It was always so noisy, and I was almost never alone, so quiet and solitude with you are mighty welcome. So, Ole Brokeback, you ain’t told me yet. How’d your visit to the chiropractor go today?” Grinning mischievously, Lucas gave Brice a gentle poke in the ribs. “Was he hot? Did his hands feel good on you?”

  “Jealous, huh? He wasn’t hot—far from it—but he helped a lot. He showed me some exercises and he moved me around some. I’m feeling a lot less stiff. Like some stress had been building and building and he released it.”

  “Good. I need you limber for all that wrestling and spit-swapping I got in mind. Man, listen to that rain against the windows. Not for nothing they say that this area has the highest precipitation in the state. Good for the gardens, though. We’re gonna have a helluva harvest this year, I hope,” Lucas said, nibbling melted Swiss cheese off his spoon. “Those greenhouse seedlings are looking good.”

  “I’ve been in the city and the suburbs too long. It’s been decades since I did any serious gardening. What all are you plannin
g to raise, other than those broccoli and cabbage sprouts?”

  “Lots. Asparagus and rhubarb will come up first. Then we’ll get some leaf lettuce and peas and new potatoes. Strawberries after that. Later, it’ll be beets, squash, and okra. Eggplants, if I can keep the fucking potato beetles off ‘em. Melons: cantaloupe and watermelon and honeydew. Sweet peppers and hot peppers. Half-runners, Blue Lakes. Then tomatoes and corn and more potatoes. You stick around here, and you’ll eat well.”

  “I have no doubt of that. I’m eating well now, thanks to you.” Brice chewed a beef-broth-sodden crouton. “So you’ll pass the GED in May. What then? Good a cook as you are, you ought to attend chef school.”

  “If I pass the GED, I’m thinking about taking the ACT and applying to college. Uncle Phil insists I go, and he insists he’ll pay. I don’t wanna be any more of a parasite than I already am—he’s given me a free place to live since I got outta prison—but honestly there ain’t no other way I could afford to go back to school.”

  “College where?”

  “WVU. Forestry or biology. I’ve already asked ‘em to send me information about those programs.”

  “So you’d move to Morgantown?”

  “Yep. That general area. Uncle Phil owns a lil’ family vacation home on Cheat Lake I could stay in. The thought scares me to death. I know I gotta get on with my life, figure out some way to make a living, but leaving Brantley Valley….”

  “So what happens to us?”

  Lucas took a long sip of wine, leaned his head back into a pillow, and stared at shadows that firelight cast against the raftered ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess we need some more time to see….”

  Brice nodded. “How serious this is? Whether it’s something to arrange a life around?”

  Brice moved closer, resting a hand on Lucas’s thigh. “It feels pretty damn serious to me, but I guess we’re both inexperienced when it comes to love and romance, so, yeah, we should be cautious still.”